


without words

by itsmylifekay



Series: stay [2]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 14:50:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6859420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsmylifekay/pseuds/itsmylifekay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sanji likes to dote on the people he cares about, likes to express himself fully and without reservation. But sometimes that’s hard to do living on a pirate ship, especially when the person he wants to be affectionate with is a prickly, stubborn asshole of a man.</p>
<p>Or, Zoro gets a bath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	without words

 

Sanji likes to dote on the people he cares about, likes to express himself fully and without reservation. But sometimes that’s hard to do living on a pirate ship, especially when the person he wants to be affectionate with is a prickly, stubborn asshole of a man.

Sanji looks down at the man in question, rubbing his thumb over the sharp curve of his jaw. “Oi, marimo.”

Zoro grunts.

“You should take a bath today,” Sanji says, keeps his hand on the line of Zoro’s jaw and watches his face carefully.

Zoro cracks his eye open. “I don’t need a bath.”

“You always need a bath,” Sanji quips. “You get sweaty and nasty training then crawl into bed with me like you aren’t ruining the sheets.”

“Haven’t complained about it before, ero-cook,” Zoro says, stretching out the last of his nap and making Sanji look away from the obscene arch of his back. A moment later Zoro sits up and looks over at Sanji, obviously confused by the lack of a retort.

The thing is, Sanji’s been thinking.

He’s been plotting and daydreaming and speculating, generally driving himself insane. And all for a stupid, oblivious marimo.

He and Zoro have had this _thing_ between them for nearly three months now and as much as Sanji’s been enjoying how it is so far…he has to admit he’s craving a bit more intimacy. The sleeping together and occasional kiss is great and Sanji loves when he gets to run his fingers through Zoro’s hair, but he’s found himself wanting more.

Sex would be nice, sure, he’s not going to argue that. But he knows they’re not there yet-- Zoro’s not there yet. But he still wants more of a chance to properly give Zoro affection.

Sanji takes a slow drag of his cigarette and steels himself, going for nonchalant as he leans back and asks, “What if I did it for you?”

Zoro’s brow furrows. “Did what for me?”

Sanji sighs and blows smoke at the ceiling. “Gave you a bath.”

“I can do that myself,” Zoro says. It’s slow and deliberate, like he’s not sure what Sanji’s trying to get at—like he’s not sure if he should fight back at being insulted or if he’s supposed to be taking this seriously. But he’s still watching Sanji carefully, and his swords are still leaned against the wall, so Sanji feels like he might just be getting through.

He taps his cigarette on the nearby ashtray then looks Zoro in the eye, tries to convey all that he can with a few simple words spoken carefully. “I know you can.”

The aquarium bubbles quietly around them and Zoro takes in a breath.

He lets it out again and Sanji tries not to rush him along, knows Zoro can be slower to process things, but that it’s worth the wait. It’s worth it to see the way Zoro’s head tilts slightly, the way his brow furrows then finally smooths again. It’s worth it when Zoro meets Sanji’s eyes and asks, “Like before, you mean?”

“Yeah,” Sanji says. “Like before. Only less fur and more space to cover,” he shoots Zoro a teasing grin. “Not that you’d be doing any of the work.”

Zoro glances down at Sanji’s hands then back up to his face, more serious than Sanji had expected. “Is this—” he stops and glares into the air, fighting with something in his head before trying again. “You want this?”

“I do,” Sanji says, matching his tone. “But it’s something I can live without.”

He thinks for a moment that Zoro’s going to say no. He can tell the dots haven’t quite connected as to why Sanji would want to bathe him now that he’s a man fully capable of doing it himself. Friends wash each other’s backs, sure, but nothing like Sanji’s suggesting. But Zoro just looks at him for a moment longer then stands, back to Sanji as he says, “I don’t want soap in my hair.”

“It’s called shampoo, you heathen, but fine,” Sanji walks around him and flicks him once on the ear, smiles at the glare Zoro gives him then kisses the slight frown off his lips. “Go wait in the bathroom for me?”

“Don’t take forever or I’m leaving,” Zoro grumbles back.

And ah, yes, Sanji can already feel the romance in the air.

\-----------

The bathroom door clicks shut behind him, clean clothes tucked under one arm and a towel slung over his shoulder. “You know,” he says, eyeing Zoro as he sets everything down on a ledge. “Baths usually involve less clothes.”

Zoro is leaning against one wall still fully dressed, arms crossed and only missing his shoes. His swords are still tucked into his sash.

Zoro’s mouth twists and Sanji pauses still half bent-over from starting the tub. He stands slowly and catches Zoro’s eye.

“I wasn’t sure,” Zoro starts. “I didn’t know how much you wanted to do.”

Sanji softens at that, takes the few steps necessary to close the space between them. Zoro’s arms drop to his sides and Sanji places a hand on his chest, splays his fingers out then pushes slowly under the edge of Zoro’s coat. “Then I suppose you’re forgiven,” he says. “But even for that aren’t you a tad over-dressed?”

He glances down at Zoro’s swords and the other man follows his gaze, leaving Sanji speechless when he brushes fingers over their hilts then looks to Sanji again. “Did you want to?”

The overwhelming trust in divesting Zoro of his swords has Sanji’s heart clenching in his chest, a fierce wave of emotions washing over him as he wraps his hand loosely around Sandai Kitetsu and pulls it from Zoro’s side. He sets it gently against the wall then looks to Zoro, taking the lack of apprehension on the man’s face as permission to continue. He removes Shusui in the same manner then stops when he gets to Wado.

He knows the story behind the blade. Can still remember that quiet night surrounded by endless stars and sweeping ocean, can remember the rasp in Zoro’s voice as he stared straight ahead and spoke of a girl with dreams cut short and a past never forgotten. He wraps a hand very carefully around the hilt, the other cradling the sheath as he pulls it free, then sets it against the wall with the others.

Zoro’s still watching him silently, but his breathing has changed to something deeper, an energy radiating from him that draws Sanji closer. Sanji steps back into Zoro’s space and undoes the red sash at his waist, slips one hand into the opening of his coat and pushes it off one shoulder. Zoro’s skin is hot beneath the palm of his hand and Sanji feels his control start to slip as he pushes the coat the rest of the way off Zoro’s body. It lands in a heap between Zoro and the wall but Sanji’s too busy working the soft material of the haramaki over Zoro’s head to really care.

Finally, Zoro is bare from the waist up, chest broad and tanned and scarred and so fucking perfect that Sanji can’t look away. He smooths his palms against the lines of muscle then looks up to see Zoro’s face.

It nearly costs him, heart thudding painfully in his chest at the raw emotion he sees reflected back at him. “Fuck,” he groans. He quickly looks down again and starts working on Zoro’s pants, biting his tongue when he pulls them down and sees the lack of anything underneath. His nose threatens to betray him but he tamps it down, lets the overwhelming flood of desire and love push him forward instead, hands grasping at Zoro’s chest as their mouths come together.

Zoro’s back hits the wall with a solid thud but the man seems unperturbed, hands fisting in Sanji’s jacket as they push closer, lips warm and chapped against Sanji’s.

And god it’s amazing. It’s unbelievable. Having Zoro warm and eager against him, it’s something straight out of Sanji’s fantasies. But it’s not one of Sanji’s fantasies and he knows he can’t take it too far, that he needs to stop before he loses more of his tentative grasp on control.

He pulls away and grabs Zoro’s wrists, rubs his thumbs reassuringly against the beating pulse there.

“How about that bath, marimo?” he asks.

The air is thick with steam and Sanji is careful to keep his eyes on Zoro’s face, not trusting himself quite yet to look at the rest of Zoro’s body. He needs to keep his control, needs to—

“Why am I the only one naked?” Zoro asks. It’s a legitimate question but Sanji doesn’t miss the whisper of vulnerability behind the sass.

“Because you’ve been distracting me,” he answers honestly. Zoro swallows and Sanji squeezes his wrists. “Would you like to do the honors?”

Zoro’s fingers release their death grip on Sanji’s jacket but don’t completely let go, face drawn in concentration as he slides the garment from Sanji’s shoulders. Once off, he folds it awkwardly then looks to Sanji, a foreign kind of discomfort in his expression.

Sanji opens his mouth to deflect the situation but Zoro beats him to it, gets a determined look on his face and reaches for the buttons of Sanji’s shirt, undoes them with a strict efficiency before pulling the fabric from Sanji’s arms. Sanji’s pants come next, folded as unevenly as the clothes before them before being set aside, leaving Sanji in a simple pair of shorts.

Zoro reaches for those as well but Sanji stops him, holds onto his wrist and brings it to his mouth instead, kissing the skin there before brushing lips over the rougher skin of his knuckles.

“Come on,” he murmurs, tugging Zoro along and guiding him into the bath.

Zoro sits upright and rigid like a statue once he’s in the water, compensating for uncertainty with steely determination. But that’s not what Sanji wants right now. He doesn’t want Zoro to be brave or strong; he wants him to relax. He wants to share this moment together and show Zoro a taste of what intimacy can be like.

“Lay back,” he says, keeps his voice low and guides Zoro’s head into the curve of his hands. Tense shoulders brush the inside of his thighs.

Sanji sets to work, pours warm water over Zoro’s head and neck, down his back and over his shoulders. It eases some of the friction when he digs into the tense muscle there, thumbs pressing firmly into the knots in Zoro’s shoulders and back, fingers kneading the tight spots in his neck.

At first Zoro remains distant and closed off, but it doesn’t take long before he starts melting into Sanji’s touch. He lets Sanji run hands all down his back, easing the tension along his spine and pulling small noises from his mouth each time Sanji works out a knot. Then Sanji moves back up to his neck and shoulders, massages all of the tension away with deft fingers and determination. Zoro’s arms are next. Sanji works at the firm muscle of his biceps, strokes down from his shoulders all the way to the tips of his fingers.

He spoils himself and spends a bit more time on Zoro’s hands than strictly necessary, admiring the calloused strength and the lines of his palm. It’s a bit disappointing when Zoro pulls his hand away and Sanji worries for a moment if he’s gone too far, but all that disappears when Zoro leans back against Sanji’s stomach, reaches up to cup the side of Sanji’s face and says, “You can do that anytime you know.”

“Oh?” Sanji questions. “I can do what, exactly?”

Zoro’s face is slightly flushed and though his expression is calm his voice betrays the majority of his emotions—the rest Sanji can find in his eye. It makes his heart beat faster in his chest.

“I don’t know,” Zoro grumbles. “Stuff like this. Hold my hand. Whatever.”

And it’s kind of adorable in a way, how hard Zoro’s trying to keep it together, how desperately he wants to be unaffected by these kinds of things. But Sanji wants him to be affected. Wants him to be open about how things make him feel, how _Sanji_ makes him feel.

He traces softly over the side of Zoro’s face. “Stuff like this,” he echoes. “So you won’t mind if I…” he leans down and brushes his lips over Zoro’s, loving the way Zoro tilts his head to meet him. Sanji traces Zoro’s lower lip with his tongue and pulls away to see the expression on Zoro’s face.

It’s gorgeous.

His pupil is blown wide, mouth open and lips pink. His skin is damp from the water and his hair is darker where it’s gotten wet.

“Yeah,” Zoro murmurs. “Stuff like that.”

Sanji loves him so much it hurts.

Their lips meet again and this time they turn to meet each other more fully, Sanji bent over Zoro with one hand caught in his hair and the other guiding the tilt of Zoro’s head. One of Zoro’s hands is on Sanji’s face as well, burning Sanji’s skin where it touches. The other is on Sanji’s calve and Sanji can feel each curl and flex of Zoro’s fingers as he moves to meet Sanji’s advances, as he twists into the give and take of their kiss and groans openly at the way Sanji nips his lower lip.

Sanji licks over the area he’s abused then presses forward, traces the seam of Zoro’s lips and eagerly slips inside when Zoro groans against him. And Zoro might not be as experienced as Sanji with these kinds of things but he’s determined, competitive and a quick learner. Which means the hand Sanji’s got in Zoro’s hair is half to hold the other man back.

Usually, Sanji loves the back and forth. He loves Zoro’s strength and his resolve and his stubbornness. But today he wants to show Zoro the other side. They’re used to fighting, they’re used to the push-pull of their time together and how that spills into more intimate moments. But Zoro’s never experienced something slow and purposeful. He’s never let Sanji take his time to show him just much love and affection he has to give.

“Zoro,” Sanji says, voice low in the space between them. Zoro freezes at the sound of his name, hand slipping from Sanji’s face to his neck as he looks up. There’s shock and surprise and _happiness_ on his face and Sanji never wants to see it go. “Zoro,” he says again, leans forward to murmur into the side of his neck. “Let me…”

And he doesn’t need to finish because Zoro is already pulling him closer, breathing heavily as Sanji presses kiss after kiss down the column of his neck, hand shaking almost imperceptibly where it’s clamped around Sanji’s calve. It’s a sign of how much he’s restraining himself to let Sanji have this moment, but there’s an edge of uncertainty to it too. And that’s something Sanji doesn’t like.

“Okay?” he asks, leant back just enough to catch Zoro’s eye.

Zoro swallows and stares at him, looks from his lips to his eyes to his chest and back again. The sound of the water lapping at the edges of the tub fills the silence between them as Zoro works out whatever’s going on inside his head. But Sanji doesn’t mind, just keeps a hand on Zoro’s shoulder as an anchor and waits. Finally, Zoro comes back to him, looks up at him with a mixture of curiosity and wonder before grabbing Sanji by the back of the neck and yanking him down, pushing their mouths together and turning to kneel in the tub, splashing water over Sanji’s thighs.

Their chests press together and Sanji groans at the unexpected heat, hands gripping at Zoro’s arms in an attempt to get a grasp on the situation.

He doesn’t get one-- not until Zoro pulls back and pants into the space between them, a fair amount of water already splashed onto the floor, Sanji’s shorts thoroughly drenched.

“Well,” Sanji says, trying to regain some semblance of control. “That was…”

Sanji’s pretty sure he knows what that was.

But he isn’t going to push it. Because Zoro may never be interested in sex the way Sanji is, and that’s okay, but if the look in Zoro’s eye is anything to go by…

“Fuck,” Zoro says. “I think I’m horny.”

“You think…” Sanji trails off, can’t decide if he wants to laugh or cry and settles for smacking Zoro upside the head instead. “Horny? That’s the best word you can come up with?”

“What the hell was that for?” Zoro shoots back, their usual energy flaring up between them. But it doesn’t last, heat evaporating between them as their position once again becomes apparent and Zoro’s eye darkens, hand gentle on the back of Sanji’s neck as he leans in again.

The kiss is gentle and slow and Sanji falls into it, lets Zoro take what he wants as they move together. He wonders for a moment if they should talk about it, should address the moment Zoro’s just had, but Zoro’s always been more of an independent spirit. He’ll come to Sanji when he’s ready, just like he’s taking what he wants right now.

They part for just a moment and Zoro fucking _whines_ when they come back together, sending Sanji’s resolve and sanity out the window because he isn’t prepared to deal with the flood of emotions that surges through him. His hands come up to frame Zoro’s face as he takes over, pours his whole heart into the kiss as Zoro tugs at his shoulders to draw them closer, something Sanji is happy to oblige.

Before long they’re both drenched and breathless and Sanji can feel the thud of Zoro’s heart against his chest. “I love you,” he says, because god it’s true and somehow the bastard manages to steal more of his heart every day.

Their foreheads press together and Zoro’s hands push harder against Sanji’s back.

“Sanji,” Zoro says, drawn out and breathless.

_I love you._

He kisses Sanji firmly on the mouth, hand tangled in his hair.

_I love you._

He leans into Sanji and nudges in under his chin, bites at the skin of his neck and smooths it over with his tongue.

_I love you._

His pulse is fast against Sanji’s palm as he holds Zoro close, helps him weather the storm of emotions with an arm wrapped around broad shoulders. Zoro nips at his neck again then sighs, nuzzling closer.

Sanji’s fingers run through still damp hair as the air slowly starts to settle around them, heartbeats and breaths returning to normal.

“Can I wash your hair?” Sanji asks quietly, one hand rubbing circles against Zoro’s back as they come back to themselves.

Zoro’s lips shift against his skin, breath hot against his neck as he gives a simple grunt in affirmation.

“You’ll have to come out of there, then,” Sanji teases. He gets a fresh mark on his shoulder and more water on his shorts as Zoro plops back down between his legs.

The atmosphere is different this time around as Sanji pours water over Zoro’s head, works fingers down his neck and shoulders. It’s softer, warmer, more relaxed.

He squirts some shampoo into his hand and rubs it into Zoro’s hair, pushes firmly against his scalp in lines and patterns until Zoro is boneless against him and rumbling from deep in his chest. Zoro’s face is calm and trusting when he leans back so Sanji can rinse, eye closed even when Sanji finishes and traces the lines of his face—his eyebrows and lips and the scar that’s stolen one eye forever.

Finally, Sanji bends down and presses a kiss to the center of his forehead, then his chin, pulling back to meet Zoro’s gaze before they both turn and their lips meet in something heated and slow that has Sanji’s toes curling and his entire body aching for more.

“Alright,” he says. “Finish cleaning off while I wipe up the floor.”

Zoro looks up at him, surprised but not complaining, and lathers himself down with soap and rinses while Sanji straightens up the bathroom. When Zoro steps out Sanji quickly hands him a towel.

“Dry off and get dressed,” he says, keeping busy cleaning as an excuse not to look. “I brought clean clothes, or as clean as yours get since you never actually _wash_ them, you heathen—“ He stops when Zoro comes up beside him, follows the line of his legs up past the towel wrapped around his waist to the lines of his abs and the swell of his pecs…

He clamps a hand over his nose and turns back to scrubbing at the floor, “Get dressed you idiot, or do you plan on walking out of here like that?”

When he looks up again Zoro at least has pants on, but he’s apparently decided to forgo the shirt, towel slung around his neck to catch stray droplets as he watches Sanji finish up from his spot across the room. He looks good leaned against the wall like that and Sanji feels the start of another nosebleed, nearly turns away until Zoro holds out an arm, takes all of Sanji’s excitement and love for what it is and accepts it, mouth welcoming as Sanji hauls him into a kiss.

The air is cooling around them but Zoro’s skin is warm and the hands that wrap around his back and pull him close send a shiver down his spine.

“We’ll have to do this again,” Sanji says when they pull away, pleased when Zoro hums his agreement.

He nearly falls over when Zoro goes on to say, “Should actually wash me next time, too.”

Zoro’s face is smug as he grabs his swords and Sanji glares at him, tempted to throw a kick or two until Zoro stops halfway through the door.

“Don’t take too long,” he says, “Or don’t wake me up when you come to bed.” It takes a moment for that to process and by the time it does Zoro’s leaning his head back in the door, “And don’t bother putting on a shirt.”

Sanji’s never bathed faster in his entire life.

When he gets to their bunk Zoro’s awake and waiting, drapes himself over Sanji’s chest as soon as he lays down and pushes into the warmth of Sanji’s neck. It’s almost cute until he feels the sting of teeth.

“Stop with the biting, you shitty-marimo,” he growls.

Zoro just hums back, licks over the fresh mark and nudges at Sanji’s arm until he curls it around him and holds him closer. In a single beat Zoro settles, goes lax against Sanji’s chest with his ear pressed to Sanji’s heart.

“I love you,” Sanji murmurs.

Zoro turns and presses a kiss to Sanji’s chest.

_I love you, too._

 


End file.
